


Not Your Usual Woody's Bar Conversation.  Maybe.

by Severina



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Blogathon 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-28
Updated: 2007-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So.  Michael," he said.  "Is it true that your mother actually <i>told</i> you that you were gay?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Usual Woody's Bar Conversation.  Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season Five  
> Written for Blogathon 2007. Prompt by LJ's quinn222, who requested a conversation in which the guys discuss when they first realized they were gay, and that Drew claimed not to know until he was much older than the others.

Woody's was, Justin had to admit, a crushing bore.

The usual assortment of hot guys cruising for dick just wasn't what he was into at the moment. He and Brian had fucked several times before leaving for the bar, so Brian didn't seem inclined to drag him into the bathroom anytime soon. And listening to Ted gloat about his latest post-surgery conquest was about to make him hurl.

Justin decided to liven things up.

"So. Michael," he said. "Is it true that your mother actually _told_ you that you were gay?"

Michael scowled. "Who told you that?"

"My mom," Justin said smugly.

"Well--"

"You couldn't figure it out yourself?" Ted teased.

"It wasn't that," Michael said. "It was… you know those Sears catalogues that used to come in the mail every few months?" He waited for the answering nods of recollection. "Well, my mom caught me cutting out photos of the underwear models for my scrapbook--"

"You had a scrapbook?" Brian laughed.

"-- the male models, of course. So, she pretty much knew. And she just told me, you know, that it was okay."

"The supportive mom," Brian said. "She probably also bought you your first dildo."

"No, that was you," Michael pointed out. "What about you, Em?"

"Honey, I knew when I was six years old." He flapped an arm when the others laughed. "Really! Every Wednesday after school Aunt Lula walked me down to the visitors centre at the big ol' Baptist church on the corner of Pinewarbler and Vine, and there was an arts and crafts centre and a choir and, oh, a whole bunch of bits and pieces designed to keep the young'uns in the community safe in the bosom of the church. You know, so they wouldn't grow up to drink and smoke--"

"-- and suck hot, hard cock," Michael put in.

"_Exactly_. And one of the counsellors was this," Emmett swooned in memory, "big butch of a man with muscles out to here. Aaaand I had such a crush on him! And all my little classmates were swooning over this girl or that, which I did _not_ understand, and one day on the walk home I asked Aunt Lula if Butch could be my boyfriend."

"Wait," Brian said, holding up a hand. "His _name_ was Butch?"

"Of course his name wasn't _Butch_," Emmett scoffed. "Who on earth has a name like Butch?"

"Butch Patrick," Ted said with a shrug.

"Butch Norton," Brian added.

"Oh! Butch Cassidy," Justin put in.

"Aaaanyway, Aunt Lula said I shouldn't talk of those things, but I must wait until I was a big boy and then to come to her and we'd talk all about it. So," Emmett said, nodding, "I knew when I was six."

"Well," Brian said, "You've got me beat."

"Oh?" Ted raised an eyebrow. "You mean the great and powerful Kinney wasn't born with a cock in his mouth instead of a pacifier?"

Brian stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Brian," Justin urged. "What's the story?"

Brian shrugged. "No story. I was ten. When my friends were drooling over Cheryl Ladd's tits, I was beating off to photos of the soccer player down the block."

"Where'd you get the photos?" Michael asked.

Brian leered. "I took them."

"Well, I knew when I was eleven," Justin said. "That's when my friend David Myers starting asking me all these questions about Daphne, and I was completely grossed out at the thought of him even thinking about her like that."

"Awww," Ted said, "to another eleven year old who was not, you know, jerking off to images of, say, Johnny Depp, she was probably a little hottie."

"Ewwww," Justin grimaced.

"Meanwhile, on the other side of the coin," Emmett put in, "my Drewsie didn't have a clue until he was well into his twenties."

"Bullshit," Brian said.

"No, really," Emmett insisted.

"It's impossible, Em," Justin said. "Sexual preference is a misnomer. There is no _preference_. Every aspect of our sexual beings has been hardwired into us at birth. We can't change who gets us off any more than we can change the colour of our skin."

"Well," Emmett sniffed, "I believe my Drew."

"Perhaps," Brian said, "he's an alien."

"No," Em said, "he was born right here in Pittsburgh."

Ted sighed. "And on that note, I'm off."

"So soon?" Michael asked.

"Yeah. I have this ogre of a boss who makes a huge fuss if I'm even five minutes late."

"The ogre and I should be getting home, too," Justin said as he got up.

Brian looked surprised. "We should?"

"Well, Michael bringing up his first dildo reminded me of a little something I packed in my suitcase…"

Brian stood abruptly. "We've gotta be going." He slung his arm around Justin's shoulders as the others laughed, and kept laughing as he ushered Justin out the door. Once outside, he watched Justin with admiration. "You planned that quite well."

Justin tried to look innocent. "What?"

"That whole _let's talk about when we first knew_ shit," Brian said. "You didn't give a fuck."

"I did!" Justin protested. He weakened when Brian merely arched a brow. "Okay, not at first. But if I had to hear Ted brag for one more second--"

"Or Mikey whine about how much he misses the professor," Brian mocked.

"I just wanted to change the subject," Justin admitted. He looked up at Brian through his bangs. "But I really do have a new toy in my suitcase."

Brian grinned. "Home. Now."

"Race you to the car," Justin dared.

He took off at a loping pace, and Brian watched him for a good ten seconds, telling himself that Brian Kinney most certainly does not run down Liberty Avenue like a damned fool.

Then he took off.

It was a tie.


End file.
